


Merry to Go 'Round

by kloppinthekop



Category: Football RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: Adam and Hendo are beauts, English National Team, Fluff, LFC forever, Liverpool, Liverpool F.C., M/M, Oneshot, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Trent in there with the banter, did I use that slang correctly, hendollana, snuck in a reference to Gerlonso, unsure about the timeline so please ignore inconsistencies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-06-15 21:59:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15422499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kloppinthekop/pseuds/kloppinthekop
Summary: ❧ The lads buy a house together at the end of the 2026 World Cup campaign, and not a single one of their teammates (former teammates now) are surprised. ❧In which Adam Lallana and Jordan Henderson were the only ones who didn't know they were a couple, but now they have a house, new jobs, and a large family. Plenty of merriness to go 'round.





	Merry to Go 'Round

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first football fic (and my first Ao3 fic- I just made my account today) ever. I wrote this in one sitting while avoiding dissertation research, I did about five paltry minutes of research and tried to calculate ages of people (like ok, math is not my strong-suit and I sadly had to use a calculator, how sad), and I do apologize profusely for any mistakes I have made (especially my non-existent knowledge of Scouse slang, and British-isms in general. Sorry, Trent. Sorry, Brits. I love you lots?). 
> 
> I'm posting this quickly before I decide it's all useless and delete it all. IT IS IN YOUR HANDS NOW, TAKE IT AND RUN.
> 
> Written for the following [footballkinkmeme](https://footballkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/) prompt: ["Any/Any, Retirement, Living Together, Fluff: Two players can finally settle together, buy their first house and figure out what's like to live with the love of their life 24/7."](https://footballkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/887.html?thread=7543#cmt7543)

The lads buy a house together at the end of the 2026 World Cup campaign, and not a single one of their teammates (former teammates now) are surprised.

“What do you mean, you saw it coming from a mile away?” Adam fluffs his hair back into shape; it's greying just a little. He thinks some of Jordan’s hair gel must have snuck its way in, because he notices a few strands that are stiffer than usual. He thinks he should have a talk with Hendo about that, because wasn’t there a report in the news about how too much product meant men were more likely to lose hair in their latter years? He vaguely remembers some news coverage on that, or something, but he also remembers being distracted by Jordan’s hand on his thigh: just a warm presence, not like the heated touch from earlier that day in the car. They’re getting old, he thinks. It’s nice.

“Blaggin’ me ‘ead, Adz. It was… obvious?” Trent looks a little confused at having to explain. He was a like a little brother to them both, and sometimes Adam thinks they should just formally adopt him. What will it matter to tack on two more last names? Trent Alexander-Arnold Lallana-Henderson. Maybe Klopp would finally stop teasing Trent about having two first names for a double-barreled surname.

Try fitting that on the Liverpool shirt though. Adam wonders what the kit manager would think of that.

Adam grins ruefully at the younger man, still younger than the average English teammate and only just having moved out of his mum’s place around the last World Cup. Trent would always be a mama’s boy. Adam doesn’t think Trent’s mum Dianne would appreciate them taking one of her precious boys away from her, even at 27.

On second thought, if they offered to drive him to uni—after Trent retired many years from now, of course—maybe she would consider it? She still didn’t like driving the motorway, according to her son. Maybe he could convince Jordan to buy a people carrier. They could be proper football dads, maybe hang up some Liverpool bunting in the back, for the kids. And Trent.

Okay, so maybe moving in together really wasn’t a surprise.

It certainly seemed like a new development for Adam and Jordan though. They hadn’t _properly_ been together for much more than a year. Of course, before, they had had the wives and the families, and didn’t even realize they wanted to be together, let alone live together at the time. They still had the wives, now ex-wives, and the families. Perhaps they should have known when they named their children such similar names without even consulting one another. It made for some mishaps at family gatherings now, that was for sure, but Adam wouldn’t change a thing. If the more the merrier, as the saying went, then they had plenty of merry to go ‘round.

He snapped out of his momentary meditation, gave Trent a friendly slap on the back. “Yeah, guess it was kinda obvious to the lads.” He paused, thoughtfully. “Would you believe we didn’t know though?”

Trent stared at him blankly. “What beauts you two are. Pair o’ divvies.” He walked off, waving his phone at Adam as a goodbye.

Savage, that kid was.

❧

The truth is, everyone knew Jordan and Adam were a pair before they did. Everyone, including the fans.

It was a bit pathetic, really.

They’d always been close. Even the club managers knew. Remember [that clause in the hotel requirements](https://hammycoffeebean.tumblr.com/post/163107115520/so-i-was-just-mindlessly-scrolling-through) that ensured that “Jordan Henderson and Adam Lallana have bedrooms next to each other”? Yeah. At some point that had become, “Jordan Henderson and Adam Lallana share bedroom” when roommates were called for.

But Adam had always thought they were just brothers—close, like family, but nothing more. They hung out together, planned playdates for their kids together, went to matches together, more frequently after Jordan had hung up his cleats. They were family, yeah, just not in that way.

Until they were.

It wasn’t even a big declaration, or anything. Just one day, when they were both no longer footballers, Jordan turned to him and said, “We’re partners, yeah?” And Adam knew, just _knew_ that Jordan wasn’t talking about their glory days on the field, or opening a restaurant like David Luiz and Willian, or anything like that.

“Yeah,” Adam said.

Quietly. Just like that.

And a year later, they had a house.

❧

Adam’s favorite bit, if he was being honest, wasn’t even the sex. The sex was good—great, actually—but, yeah maybe he was getting old, because his favorite moments were when they were perfectly in sync at the end of the day: Jordan getting home from coaching the Liverpool U-18s, Adam meeting him at the door after taking their dogs on a walk around the neighborhood.

It was disgustingly domestic.

But Adam couldn’t argue with that. He’d never been happier- especially when they had the children, one a teen and the other three not so young anymore either. Still, there was plenty of joy to go around, and Adam had an inkling that his maths were improving from helping the kids with their homework, despite what Trent thought about him and Hendo being idiots.

There were tough days, to be sure. On some days, Adam still hadn’t gotten over the fact that he was forced into retirement via injury. That last season had been a good one, winning the Champions League, so he couldn’t really complain, but he spent the latter half of that season coming in and out of the team for rehab. Klopp had been true to his promise: subbed him in at the last five minutes, even though it was a close match.

In the end, the Reds won 4-3, and Adam won himself a big kiss on the cheek from Hendo.

It wasn’t a Stevie G/Alonso peck, not the Istanbul legend that would live on for years, but all the same: maybe Adam should’ve known then. Should’ve known from the warmth in his cheeks, before the champagne had even been popped, should’ve known by the familiar and repeated hugs and neck-kisses before he had drunkenly grabbed Jordan by both cheeks and sloppily ruffled his hair.

Maybe he should’ve known, from the way Jordan let him.

Still loved his hair gel, did he.

In the end though, Adam retired at the close of that glorious season, and Hendo had played two more years before moving on to coaching. In those intermediate years, they weren’t together as much as Adam realizes he would’ve liked them to be. Realizes that now, in retrospect of course, but at the time, it just seemed normal. Henderson was still the captain, the skipper, and he took his duties seriously. Adam was adjusting to civilian life.

It was bittersweet. That wasn’t a surprise: Adam had loved playing for Liverpool. Loved playing football, period.

What did surprise them all was the job Adam ended up with, however. Some of the lads thought he could’ve been a coach, maybe could’ve been a team trainer or something. Instead, he ended up with a camera in his hands.

First, it was just a bit of fun, something to take his mind off the knee injury, which still gave a dull throb sometimes, especially on overcast or rainy days. (There were a lot of those.) Then it became more serious. He was often at Anfield, and he asked some of the press guys to take a look at his photos. They said he was good, really good for an amateur. He had an eye for it.

He also had the connections. One day, on a whim, he asked Jordan over to his flat, having temporarily lived on his own after the split with Emily (an amicable parting). “Bring the kids?,” Hendo had asked.

“No, just you this time,” Adam had replied over the phone. “I have this...I’m trying out something new.”

Jordan didn’t ask any more questions, just turned up an hour later, dropping his gym bag by the door.

Adam remembers being a little nervous… apprehensive about what his best friend would think. “I’m thinking of becoming a photographer,” he told him as they sat down at the counter. “Thought I might see how I am at portraits.”

They talked a little about the photos Adam took at training sessions and home games, having pulled up some folders on Adam’s laptop.

“These are decent, Adz. Good.” Jordan paused at a photo of Mo, silhouetted by the flashing phone cameras of fans in the stands and the stadium lights. “Really good.”

“Thanks,” Adam had said quietly, but with a calm assuredness that would flourish healthily over the years.

It was a start. A new start.

The twinging of his knee bothered him less after that portrait session, and Jordan accepted the first photo prints graciously.

Pulling himself out of these memories, Adam smiled. His favorite shot from that day, which he glanced at now, hung in the living room of the new home. Their new home. Jordan’s face smiled back widely from behind its simple red frame.

Yeah, maybe they should have realized it sooner.

❧

These days, Adam split his time between portraiture of footballers and action shots at games. He got to decide what kind of work he wanted to do, the balance of it all. It was a nice change of pace, and he was genuinely good at his job. Had to be, or certainly someone would’ve accused him of being yet another privileged footballer who retired into a lifestyle of ease and indolence.

Jordan’s schedule was a little more rigid, but Adam knew that he loved it, loved all of it. Hendo was a natural-born leader. From skipper to “mister,” the manager. They talked a lot about it, the two of them finding their own ways of staying attached to the sport they both loved: the sport that had given them both their love for each other. One day, Adam knew, Jordan would be the coach not just at the academy but of the first team. The whole damn club would be his. Theirs.

What a merry family then they would be indeed.

As it was for the time being though, they enjoyed the time they had together. It was no longer so new as to be exciting, really, but some days Jordan still surprised him with a (relatively) fancy dinner at home, and some days Adam showed up to training games with the kids in tow. Sometimes they surprised Trent by showing up to the first team’s practices and hollering at him, chucking bits of apple and veg at their younger friend from the stands, letting him banter back at them.

At home, it was just the two of them most days, the children having chosen to live with their respective mums closer to their respective schools. They were over often, the whole lot of them, but Adam and Jordan had plenty of time to themselves. Jordan still liked his hip hop, played a couple of older Ed Sheeran tunes for the memories sometimes. Adam still snuck silly videos of Jordan moving along to them while sitting on the couch, thighs flush together despite ample room on the piece of furniture. Sometimes he swapped out his phone for the camera and saved short clips in a folder on the computer, vignettes labelled for a home video he’d like to put together one day of him and Jordan, their family, them together at home in Merseyside.

It was nice that there was still so much future to be enjoyed. They were doing their best at not living in the past. After all, in the present, they were together.

It really shouldn’t have been a surprise, but, here they were. Together at last.

Merry, in Merseyside.

Maybe it was time to think about marriage.

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  _graphic by me[on tumblr](http://dr-azumi-fujita.tumblr.com/post/176267720071/merry-to-go-round-a-football-rpf-fic-by)_
> 
> As I mentioned in the notes at the beginning, this is my first football fic (and first fic overall in almost 10 years)! Any comments, suggestions, etc. are much appreciated! ❤
> 
> My tumblr: <http://dr-azumi-fujita.tumblr.com> (formerly adleriarty)


End file.
